


Smashing ourselves until we're whole

by StarAndMoon (TheDarkestStar)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dementors (Harry Potter) - Freeform, M/M, Post - Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:04:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkestStar/pseuds/StarAndMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Draco is attacked by the most foul creatures of the Wizarding World, he receives an unexpected help from a longtime rival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smashing ourselves until we're whole

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to floralcosette @tumblr for beta-ing!

***

He was quite young when he had his first near death experience. A child, really, only thirteen years old. _“Melancholic and prone to overdramatization.”_ That was what the doctor (a charlatan, no doubt) said to his mother, thinking he couldn’t hear them, after that stupid winged beast almost killed him. He’d have punched that doctor right in his huge nose if his hand didn’t hurt so badly. Or cursed him, if he still had his wand. What did he know? What did any of them know? No, it wasn’t that stupid bird that almost killed him. A fall like that, in front of everyone. In front of Potter. No, someone would have to pay for such humiliation.

Okay, it’s an embarrassing memory, really, and _not funny, why are you laughing, Potter. Stop._

His second near death experience was much bloodier. By that time he grew up, learnt to tolerate pain. Learnt to control his emotions. Learnt a lot of things.

_“Yeah, I’m really sorry I did this to you.”_

_“No, we’re not discussing it now. Or ever.”_

His third near death experience was… _“Well, you know all about it, you were there.”_ Draco pushed away, and the memory began to fade.

“I haven’t seen it from your point of view, can you not rush it, wait.”

“It doesn’t show points of view, don’t you know how Pensieves work. And excuse me if I don’t want to watch my friend burn to death again, so can we please not… do that.”

“Fine.”

“That’s better. Now, the third one… Well, you were there too.”

“When?”

“Today.”

“Today? And that’s it, that’s your whole list?”

Draco took a deep breath. “Well not all of us were the Chosen One, you know!”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Sure you did.”

“Okay, come on. I wasn’t really there until the very end. Show it to me.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“But we might need something there, some information you missed maybe, come on.”

“… Damn it. Alright.” ( _By the way, you are a terrible liar, Potter._ )

***

Draco barely had time to take out his wand. Too late: he was already surrounded, his hands unseen in the darkness, stiff from coldness rapidly drowning him. He fell on his knees.

As nothing is ever the way Muggles describe it, his life wasn’t flashing before his very eyes in a convenient slideshow of memories to choose from. Instead, his head was filled with thousands of voices, screaming, whispering, lecturing, laughing. It was so thundering he lost his balance. _Concentrate on one, concentrate on one_ , he told himself in a futile attempt to keep himself from falling.

Lying helplessly on the ground, Draco shut his eyes. If those abominations were the last thing he was supposed to see in this life, then, by Merlin, he was not going to give them that satisfaction.

Not watching helped with concentration. His eyes adjusted quickly enough. He could see faces now, objects, flying around him, unreachable. ( _“The first flight on the broom. No, that’s ridiculous. First time I caught the Snitch. Yes, okay. Here it is.”_ )

Oh, if only he could reach it!

Draco stretched his hand, still clenching the wand. He could almost touch it now. He brushed the wing, but it only cut his hand. Drops of blood streamed down his arm, warming frozen skin, coloring his Mark red. The snitch was too far away now, almost hidden behind the thick black clouds.

_“Expecto Patronum!”_ Draco tried to scream with all his lungs, but the vocal cords wouldn’t comply.

_“Expecto Patronum…”_ he breathed out, gasping for air now, choking on vacuum instead.

All the warmth has left his body, even that radiating from his own spilled blood. His hand, heavy from invisible shackles, fell to the ground. He couldn’t move. _Any second now._ Somewhat a comforting thought. _It’s going to be over soon_. So cold, he might not even feel a thing.

The snitch reappeared, but he had no strength left to try and catch it. Amazing how such a small thing can be so blinding. The cloud was giving in. The snitch was growing larger, not trying to escape Draco anymore, flying toward him instead. Larger, larger, until Draco could see nothing but the light. It was transforming now, wings turning into antlers, the orb gaining curve.

Another sensation hit Draco, a distant pain from a long healed bruise. A memory, half-forgotten, but not lost. Not taken away. He held tight to it, trying to place it, trying to _see_.

Nothing.

The creature sat next to Draco and put its head on his chest. _“Thank you.”_ Draco muttered, and lost consciousness.

If —— _when_ he wakes up, he’ll remember.

***

“It was your Patronus, wasn’t it?”  Draco could barely hear himself ask. A thousand of voices were humming in his head, screaming, demanding attention. He pressed on his ears as hard as he could until the noise was gone.

Harry nodded.

“I remembered it.” Draco took a deep breath and tried to move, without much success. “Why?”

“The Dementors.” Harry helped him up. “They…kind of attacked you.”

“Why?” Draco repeated, feeling slightly irritated now. The noise came back, so he focused all his concentration on Harry Potter’s voice. His face. His eyes.

_(What an annoying scar you have there, Potter.)_

Harry moved back.

“They, um… Well… I think they… didn’t take their sacking from Azkaban lightly.”

The voices kept getting louder. Draco counted to three and breathed out.

“I don’t understand.”

“Well. To put it plainly, some of them seemed to have developed a plan to get their jobs back. They are semi-intelligent creatures, you know. So now they, um… think of themselves as some sort of headhunters, I reckon.”

“They _hunt_ people?”

“They hunt people who in their opinion belong in Azkaban, yes. Hunt, and, um… perform their duty.”

“You mean, they hunt people and give them a Kiss?” Draco had to grab his head again to push out the noise.

“That their idea of justice, it would seem. The Ministry is working on it.”

“You’re joking, right.”

Harry didn’t answer. _Of course not,_ Draco thought _. Harry Potter was not famous for sense of humor, and even if he had any, he would never joke about the Dementors._

“Is that why you are here? Hunting the Dementors?”

“No, it’s not…” Harry shrugged. “It’s not my job, no. I just found out a couple of hours ago.”

“So…”

“I went to inform the potential targets. They were sending owls, you know. Didn’t seem… too efficient. To me.”

“So you came to warn me?”

“Not you, actually. Your father. They are able to track by smell. I guess they got confused.”

“You started with my father?”

Harry shrugged again. “Seemed as good a start as any.”

Draco lay down on the ground again.

“You talk very Ministry-like nowadays. ‘Efficient’. Picked up a few new words, have you?”

Harry got to his feet. “Are you feeling alright? Do you need help getting back into your house?”

“I think I can manage.” Draco brushed him off, continuing to lie on the ground.

Harry sighed and got him on his feet. “Come on.”

“I’m fine! I’ll let my father know. Go save someone else now.”

“Yeah, you can’t be fine. There were like thirty of them. You couldn’t do anything, you know. Not without training. I saw you collapse. Your Patronus didn’t even have time to form.”

_My Patronus doesn’t have a form,_ Draco thought to himself, and that thought enraged him greatly.

“I said I’m fine! It’s not that hard, you know? Just think of something happy and say two words, any idiot can do that.” He released himself from Harry’s grip.

“Right. Okay then. Choose a happier memory next time then. Surely you have plenty of those.”

Harry turned around.

Draco hesitated for a moment. “Wait! I’ll go with you. I know where everyone lives anyway. You won’t find them in ages without me. Let’s go.”

Harry didn’t turn to face him. “Fine. Let’s go visit your friends.”

***

_They are not my friends,_ Draco thought. _Just a bunch of idiots who got caught._ Suddenly he felt an extreme desire to protect them all with his last breath just to annoy Potter. The buzzing in his head now turned into screaming, reaching the highest pitch with every step. Draco bit his tongue until he could feel the blood filling up his mouth. That reminded him about his injury. He looked at his hand. No trace of a wound.

“Strange.”

“What?”

“I felt like… I cut my hand trying to catch the snitch. I almost reached it, and…”

“Oh. That’s what it was.”

“What?”

“I saw you trying to sort of... wave around a Dementor with your wand. I thought you were trying to conjure your Patronus.”

Draco went slightly red.

“Well, yes, that’s what I was doing.”

“It worked, but only a moment. You should try with your eyes open next time.”

_Is he mocking me or is he really that thick?_

“So… you were trying to catch a Snitch?” Harry turned to Draco. He was trying to hide a smile, quite unsuccessfully. Draco quickly estimated that hearing more screams would probably cause his head to blow up, and decided not to get irritated this time. Instead, he smiled.

“I was thinking about Quidditch. The first time I caught the Golden Snitch.”

Harry stopped smiling and looked straight into Draco’s eyes. His own eyes were narrowed, mouth shut tight. Draco squeezed his wand, ready for an attack, but held the stare. Harry gulped.

“It won’t work. You have to try a better one.” His eyes fell on Draco’s wand, still clenched in his hand, ready for an attack. Draco swiftly put the wand in his pocket.

“No, you should take it out, just in case.” Harry returned to his normal pace.

“Why won’t it work?”

“I tried it. My first time. I thought about my first flight on a broom. It wasn’t strong enough. It had to be more… private.”

Draco didn’t answer.

“Do you want to go slower? You seem shaken.”

“No… Yes. Yes, I need to take a break.”

“You don’t have to go with me, you know.”

“Yeah, well, no one has to do anything, right? I don’t have to go with you, you don’t have to go warn anyone, the Ministry doesn’t have to catch the Dementors, the whole thing would be just so much simpler if we would just let them do their jobs, wouldn’t it?” Draco flopped down on the ground, and pressed his ears so hard he thought he had crushed his own skull.

Harry sat next to him.

“I can’t get rid of the voices.”

“Voices?” Harry tensed.

“I keep hearing voices. But there are so many. I don’t know what they want. And they won’t go away. I feel like my head is going to explode! Is that… Is that how you felt? When you collapsed on the train?”

“I heard just… one voice.” Harry said quietly. “My mother’s. Just before Voldemort had killed her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“No, I’m sorry I made fun of that. It’s really painful, I know that now.”

“Hold on, I completely forgot!” Harry reached into his pocket, and took out a large piece of chocolate. “Here. Eat this. It helps.”

“It does?” Draco reluctantly took a piece.

“It does.” Harry grinned.

Draco took a bite.

“What do you think it’s like, having your soul sucked out of you? Does it… continue to exist, inside the Dementor? Does it still feel? Or is it gone, and everything just goes… black? Forever?”

Harry took a piece of chocolate from Draco’s hand.

“Let’s hope we’ll never find out. Let’s go.”

They got up to their feet.

“Strange. The chocolate did help.” Draco admitted, reluctantly. “Does it have to be chocolate, or any sweets would do?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t know!”

“Hm.” Draco shrugged. _(I’d prefer a pie. I will a try a pie next time. Maybe a chocolate pie.)_

“…I think it’s important that it’s chocolate, not just any sweets.”

_(Chocolate pie it is, then.)_

 

***

“So.” Draco’s head was finally clear enough to concentrate on the task in hand. “What’s your plan?”

“My plan?” Potter paused for a second. “Let those people know the Dementors are after them?”

“Not all of them have wands, you know. Some are on parole. I only got mine back a month ago.”

“You didn’t have a wand for six months?”

“I wasn’t supposed to have any wands at all except I was exempted due to the age… — Where were you? Don’t you know all this?”

Harry didn’t answer.

“Potter, what is your plan in case someone doesn’t have a wand?”

“I haven’t thought about it. We need to send them somewhere safe, I reckon.”

“And what is the Ministry’s plan about the Dementors?”

“I told you I don’t that.”

“They don’t tell you much, do they?”

“Well, why would they?”

“Right. Why indeed.”

“Look, if you want to say something, say it!” Harry almost screamed.

Draco sighed. “Never mind. The Goyles house is just around the corner. Across the street are the Gibbons.”

Harry checked both Houses. Empty.

“They are not home.”

“Well, most of the Death Eaters are either dead or in Azkaban or hiding, you know. Goyle should be home eventually. Probably drunk somewhere. You understand, right, that you just plan to scare them off and send them to a next target, and it’s not really… effective?”

“I know. I don’t know how to kill a Dementor, Malfoy. If I knew, I would.”

“The Killing Curse doesn’t work? If someone else were to use it, not you, of course, obviously.”

“I don’t think it would work, quite frankly. If it did, we’d knew.”

“Maybe… can they be trapped?”

“Trapped?”

“Yes. Sucked into an object and locked there. Could that work?”

“Maybe?”

“They feed on memories, emotions. They are attracted to them. So if there were to be an object, full of memories, emotions, would ---”

“A _Pensieve_!” Harry interrupted Draco. “It’s a container, it’s a thing, so it can be cursed. And it’s pure memories, so it might attract them. Do you think..?”

“…Put happy memories in a Pensieve and use as a bait. Yeah, can work. Maybe you should suggest it to the Ministry.”

“Why?” Harry sounded genuinely surprised. “I can do it. Surely Hermione will have some ideas about a curse, and…”

“Oh, right. Harry Potter and his team. Always there to save the day.”

“Well, you can help, you know. If you want to.”

“But I don’t want to.”

_(I really, really want to.)_

“That’s what I thought.”

_(It was my idea in the first place!)_

“Where would you get a Pensieve?”

“Well, I know Dumbledore had one. Do you know someone who has a Pensieve?”

“...I do, actually.”

“Who?”

“We do. A leftover from old relatives. I don’t know if it works. Never tried it.”

“Alright then, let’s apparate back to your house and get it!”

“I didn’t say I was going to give it to you.”

“For Merlin’s… Malfoy, why do even mention you have a Pensieve if you don’t want to give to me? Are you just bragging, as always?”

“What’s to brag about? You can take it. It would be polite to ask, you know, Potter. Learn some manners.”

***

Five minutes later they were back at the Malfoy’s manor, frantically searching the attic.

“Merlin’s beard, Draco, do you ever clean this place up, it’s horrible. And smells like someone died here. And then died at least three times more.”

Draco bit his lip.

_(Well, I reckon we had a House Elf once, but… No, bad answer, Draco, let’s not mention Dobby to Potter. Let’s not talk to Potter. What is Potter doing here? I must’ve hit my head too hard. I must’ve gone mad.)_

“Found it!” Draco rolled out a dusty old Pensieve. “Do you know if the memories here have an expiration date? It hasn’t been used in centuries.”

“What could possibly happen to memories, Draco?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to get my brains fried.”  _(…any more than they already seem to be.)_

“To be honest with you, I wouldn’t risk watching your family’s memories either. The brain is doomed to get fried.”

“Well let’s empty it then.”

“Okay, you take one handle, I take another.”

“What are you talking about, Potter, you’re a _wizard_ , for Merlin’s sake!”

Swish! Malfoy elegantly sent the Pensieve down the stairs. “It’s in the bathroom, let’s go!”

With another wave of the wand, Draco sent the sticky mass down the drain. “Okay, it’s clean”.

“Well, that explains the attic”. Harry took out his wand and performed a cleaning spell. “Alright, now it’s clean. So… One of us has to try it.”

“Okay.” Draco sat on a chair.

“Do you want me to try it?”

“Be my guest.”

Harry grabbed his wand. A silver line exited his ear and hung in the air. Harry carried it toward the Pensieve.

“Now I’m gonna check if I can see it.” Harry put his head into the Pensieve.

He pushed back, and shook his head.

“It works fine. A little glitchy. Good enough for the Dementors, I suppose.”

“So you want us to get rid of all our happy memories now?”

“No. Not all! Just… some.”

“Yeah, just some. Alright. My head is killing me, I need a drink. Do you want something?”

***

While Draco was searching for something to numb the pain with, Harry invited himself in a guest room upstairs, organizing a place for the Pensieve next to the window, and getting acquainted with all Draco’s relatives whose now resided on the wall. Not the closest ones, of course. It is a guest room, after all.

When Draco came back, holding a cup of tea for Potter and a bottle of Firewhisky with two glasses (just in case), Harry was having a heated argument with Draco’s distant and long dead cousin twice removed about Potter’s right to sit in the chair that once belonged to Septimus Malfoy himself.

“Oh, shut up, will you?” Draco silenced the portrait and sat on the chair next to Potter.

“Whose chair is that one, William the Conqueror?”

“No. It’s just a chair. What, you want to sit here instead?” Draco grinned and took a sip. “So, what do you suppose we should put there?”

“I don’t know, you go first.”

“Okay, I have one.” Draco giggled. “Remember when you broke your hand and that moron Lockhart removed all the bones from it. I laughed for like three days.”

“Yes, hilarious. I have one, too. When you got turned into a ferret. That was so funny Ron almost died of laughter.”

“It wasn’t funny, Potter. Okay, fine, add it. Just so you can forget it.”

“Damn it, do you forget things if you put them there? I don’t think so. Anyway, can’t risk  it, it’s too good to be forgotten. Okay, here’s a different one. When I put on my Invisibility Cloak and threw some snowballs at you and you ran away crying.”

“I wasn’t crying and it wasn’t fair. And —- I can’t believe you have an Invisibility Cloak.”

“It’s not an Invisibility Cloak. It’s the Invisibility Cloak.”

“Wait… No! No way!”

“Yep.”

“Where is it? Can I see it?”

“Sure! Here. Look in the Pensieve.”

_(Rude, Potter.)_

“Okay, here is mine. The “Potter Stinks” badges.”

“Who even came up with those.”

“Um…” Draco went red.

_(Shit. Shit.)_

“...Why on Earth, Malfoy!” Harry’s tea went out of his nostrils.

“Mostly because you stank.”

“Mostly?!”

“I wanted to see your reaction. It was quite satisfactory.”

“Okay. Here is Hermione punching you in the face.”

“Here is Ron puking out whatever… those were. Very funny. You know what Crabb —“ Draco stopped abruptly.

Harry refilled his glass with fire whiskey.

“What did Crabb say?”

“Never mind.”

“…Okay. Oh, I have a good one about them. When me and Ron turned into them so we could get into the Slytherin common room.”

“Why would you get into the Slytherin common room?”

Now it was Harry’s turn to go red in the face.

“So we could talk to you.”

“WHAT.”

“We thought… You were the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets.”

“Really.”

“Yes, well…”

“You Gryffindors have no respect for privacy at all, do you? There are no lines with you.”

“People were being petrified!”

“Right. As long as there’s a good reason.”

“Don’t play saint with me, Malfoy, you know well you were the most obvious suspect, and we were twelve.”

“I feel strangely flattered. Okay. Here’s one. Once I tried to feed Ron’s rat to Pansy’s cat. We locked them inside one room. To this day I frankly have no idea how it escaped.”

“It wasn’t a rat, you know. That was Peter Pettigrew.”

“Right. Weasley has some awkward childhood memories now I reckon.”

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little bit funny. I’ll put it in the Pensieve if you don’t mind. I’m getting short on memories, do you think it’s enough?”

“Maybe we should add more. Some scary memories maybe. Near death experiences.”

“Oh, you’d have those.”

“Surely you do too! Come on. You start.”

 

***

“So… what now?” Draco put the wand aside. The Pensieve was full, and, frankly, was getting sort of depressing, what with all the Potter’s memories dumped into it.

“I don’t know. Maybe if we’re lucky they’ll come back here.”

“I don’t wanna just sit here! Do you think, maybe we can provoke them?”

“How?”

“Well, if they follow a scent, maybe we can magnify it so they’d think my father’s home?”

“Could work… Good thinking, Malfoy!”

_(Thanks?.. )_ “Pfft, it was quite obvious, Potter, I’m surprised you didn’t think of that.”

“Well to be fair I don’t really want to magnify the smell of your father, but since it was your idea…”

_(Damn it.)_

“Okay, let’s go find some of my father’s clothes…”

_(He’s going to come back home and kill me. If I survive the Dementors, and my father survives the Dementors, he’s going to kill me. I’m so dead. What is Potter doing here. Going through my father’s closet, that’s what. I bet it’s bigger than the one he lived in though. Some consolation at least.)_ “Potter, don’t touch that!”

“What’s… Oh.”

 

***

_(The Dementors sure like to travel in packs.)_ Draco grabbed his wand. “Now?”

“No, hold on! We need to wait until there is enough of them. Don’t use the Patronus Charm unless it’s absolutely necessary!”

“What, two dozen of them doesn’t count as an absolute necessity?”

“No, there will be more! Run, just… Run upstairs! Hide behind the Pensieve and wait for me, I’ll hold them off!”

_(Harry Potter, always a hero. Well, not today.)_

“No, you go upstairs!”

“Come on, Malfoy, I don’t have time to argue with you, you know you can’t conjure a Patronus, so run!”

“Of course I can…!” Draco almost believed it himself.

Harry muttered something unflattering about Draco’s Patronus-conjuring abilities and personal qualities. “Fine! Let’s go together! Right… NOW!”

Harry grabbed Draco by the sleeve and pushed him toward the stairs. “Lock the door!”

“If we lock the door, we then will have to unlock it?”

“No, we’ll open a window! That way they will only have one entrance!”

“The door is the only entrance if we keep the window close..?”

“Can you stop arguing with me for a second? I’m the fucking Auror around here, aren’t I?”

“Not a very good one, seems to me!”

“Just lock the freaking door, would you?!”

“But can’t they… like… go under it?”

“LOCK! THE! DOOR!!”

 

***

Well, how else do you expect this to end? Of course, Harry Potter bravely fought off the Dementors. Unfortunately for Draco, he didn’t get to see that part, as voices piercing his skull returned together with Dementors, and their joined forces knocked him unconscious. When he woke up, everyone was gone.

Well, except for Potter.

“Oh, good, you’re awake!”

“What happened?” Draco groaned.

“Well, you passed out and the Dementors got sucked into the Pensieve.” Harry helped Malfoy get up. “I can’t believe it actually worked!”

“What do you mean you can’t believe it worked?! It was your plan, wasn’t? Lock the door, lock the door, I’m the great Auror here, yada-yada…”

“Well, it could've not worked. No one tried it before… I reckon.”

“So what are you planning to do about this Pensieve now? You’re not gonna leave it in the middle of my room, are you?”

“I think I’ll shrink it and bring it to the Ministry.”

There was a slightly awkward pause which lasted somewhat about two years. _Or so it felt like_ , Draco thought.

“So.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m gonna —- go.”

“Oh please, by all means, apparate away!” Draco turned around to close the window. “Oh, and by the way, my Pensieve…”

When he turned back, Potter was already gone.

***

It’s not like he tried to relive this day in his head over and over again - _he did not_ ; and not like he expected a little more than “ _I’m gonna go_ ” by the end of it - obviously, _that would be ridiculous_ ; but he thought he deserved a little gratitude. After all, it was _his_ Pensieve that got ruined, and _his_ manor that got disturbed, and _him_ who almost got his soul sucked out for no reason.

And it was _him_ who had to deal with _Harry Potter_ all day.

…In two weeks, Draco finally gave up, and decided to send Harry a letter.

It took him another three days to compose one.

 

_“What’s the news of the Dementors? Are we safe?_

_— Draco.”_

_“Dealing with it! Sending a new Pensieve for you, a token of gratitude for your assistance from the Ministry of Magic._

_Don’t sit in that house all day, it stinks. Go make some memories._

_— Harry.”_

Another owl entered his window and dropped a package into Draco’s lap. He fed the birds, restored the Pensieve, hid Potter’s letter, sighed, and took out his wand.

_Is it strange to have a memory for fighting off the Dementors that is, well, about fighting off the Dementors?_

_Let’s find out._ Draco closed his eyes. _“Expecto Patronum!”_


End file.
